


Why Don't You Be You

by writerinbrooks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, BDSM mention, Broke College Student Atsumu, Eventual Explicit Content, M/M, Sugar Daddy Sakusa Kiyoomi, Suggestive Themes, Suggestive language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27958796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerinbrooks/pseuds/writerinbrooks
Summary: “There’s no need to act so skittish,” Kiyoomi repeated his statement from earlier. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”-In which Kiyoomi finds himself an attractive, sweet (but occasionally bratty) sugar baby to keep him company.Kiyoomi's terms are simple: he'll pay Atsumu to keep him company, give him a monthly allowance, cover any expenses, and firmly states there is no intimate skin-on-skin contact.Atsumu's one condition is that they don't fuck around with others to remain clean of diseases.Oh, and one last thing. There are no strings attached.-Alternatively known as the 'monster cock Miya sugar baby brat Atsumu' fic.Graphic for the fic can be foundhere.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 22
Kudos: 202





	1. Could I Be The One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dauwtrappen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dauwtrappen/gifts).



> Inspired by noot's [twitter post.](https://twitter.com/monstersbanquet/status/1335911252393123841?s=20)
> 
> I did a quick edit through, so there shouldn't be too many mistakes, but if you find any, feel free to let me know in the comments! :)

_ Atsumu Miya, 24, collegiate MVP volleyball player based in Tokyo.  _ The name was vaguely familiar to Kiyoomi. He didn’t dwell on it for too long, instead taking some time to look at the profile he had pulled up before him. It had been a long time since Kiyoomi found someone who’d piqued his interest; someone he wanted to spoil. There was likely one main reason why a college athlete would be on an app like this: although their tuition might be covered, the rest of their living expenses were not and Tokyo was not cheap.

This Atsumu Miya was attractive, Kiyoomi knew that much for certain. The blonde’s profile picture was a simple selfie, with the light of either the rising or setting sun casting a golden glow on his face as soft brown eyes stared back at Kiyoomi almost seductively. There was a tiny and almost shy smile tugging at the corner of pink lips, with the slightest hint of smug narcissism to it.

A quick skim through of the five photos Atsumu had posted on his barely a day old profile told Kiyoomi a little bit about what the blonde was like.

There were a few shirtless photos, all from the waist up, showcasing bulging biceps and a well-sculpted torso with lean muscle straining against bronzed skin. The most recent photograph was the only full body image. Kiyoomi assumed it was taken professionally, given the clarity and quality of the shot — everything in the image but Atsumu was slightly blurry, the lens focused only on the blonde. 

Atsumu was dressed in UTokyo’s blue volleyball uniform, seemingly suspended in time as he leaned back in an impressively low setter’s position with his back nearly parallel to the ground as he set the volleyball high into the air. 

Kiyoomi found his eyes drifting down to stare at the muscular thighs, and if he looked a little closer, he could see a rather prominent bulge in the volleyball player’s shorts. If Kiyoomi felt heat coil in the pit of his stomach, that was only for him to know. He flicked his thumb once against the screen to get to the top of Atsumu’s profile in the app, his eyes catching the glimpse of the number of recent page visits, amounting to nearly three hundred.

It still didn’t stop Kiyoomi from pressing on the message button.

**Sakusa_Kiyoomi:** Atsumu, you’ve caught my eye. I live in the Tokyo area, so if you’re interested in meeting up with me, let me know with a date and time.

Kiyoomi set his phone screen down on the table, and saw some movement from his peripheral vision. Kiyoomi turned to look to his right, blinking when he saw his cousin, Komori Motoya grinning at him through the glass of the cafe window he was sitting behind. Kiyoomi arched a brow in question, and Motoya wiggled his own before bounding towards the cafe entrance.

At the jingle of the bell above the door, the lanky, dark-haired man behind the counter stopped wiping down the counter to look up, his customer service smile and greeting falling short from his lips.

Kiyoomi watched the exchange with interest, his dark eyes darting from the young man to his cousin a few times. Motoya didn’t seem particularly bothered, heading directly for Kiyoomi’s table to plop down across from him with a grin.

“So, did you find anyone?” Kiyoomi didn’t bother to answer Motoya, instead curling his lips down into a scowl that was hidden behind the mask covering the lower half of his face. Motoya knew Kiyoom’s tics and facial expressions well enough to get the message. “You had that look in your eyes when I saw you. It’s been a long time since you found one, right?”

By “one” Motoya meant a sugar baby.

“It’s been two years.” Kiyoomi replied, “that’s not that long. You’re the one who can’t seem to decide who to stick with.” Motoya grinned at that, waving Kiyoomi off like it was no big deal. Kiyoomi inclined his head in the direction of the dark-haired young man behind the counter, who’d returned to wiping down the surfaces and meticulously rearranging the display.

A small smirk tugged at Motoya’s lips, a wicked gleam flashing through his eyes.

“Mm.” Motoya hummed. “Suna-chan’s cute.” Kiyoomi didn’t grace him with a response. Their family was aware of Kiyoomi and Motoya’s chosen lifestyle — though Kiyoomi doubted that they knew of Motoya’s preference to be involved in BSDM undertones whenever he found a ‘sugar baby’. 

Because Kiyoomi’s father and Motoya’s mother came from old money that was split between the siblings when their parents passed, and they were in charge of the Itachiyama Enterprise, they were more than happy to supply Kiyoomi and Motoya with anything as long as they proved they could provide for themselves if something went awry.

Motoya drummed his fingers against the table before his eyes flickered to the counter again.

“I’m gonna go get something to eat. Do you want anything while I’m up there, Kiyo?” Motoya asked, pushing his seat back and taking out his wallet from his pocket.

“No, I’m fine.” Kiyoomi replied. He leaned back in his seat as he watched Motoya approach the counter, propping a hip against it to talk to  _ Suna-chan.  _ There was a slight flush that rode high on the dark-haired man’s cheeks, and a tenseness to his shoulders as Motoya spoke to him.

Kiyoomi’s attention was diverted when he heard his phone buzz, and flipped it over. He was surprised to notice that he’d already gotten a response from Atsumu Miya. Kiyoomi fought the slightly smug feeling he felt bubbling up inside of him as his eyes skimmed the notification preview.

**[thebettermiya:** Hi, does this place work this Saturday at 15:30? **]**

Kiyoomi tapped on the message and unlocked his phone to see what link Atsumu had sent. He felt a brow arch in interest — the link led to the exact cafe that Kiyoomi was sat in. Kiyoomi typed out a simple,  _ yes, see you there,  _ and his eyes flickered over to his cousin just in time to see him leaning over the counter to whisper something into Suna’s ear. The latter flushed, but nodded before passing over a cup of coffee.

Motoya picked it up, placed a kiss on Suna’s cheek before he headed back over to Kiyoomi with a satisfied expression on his face.

“So, Kiyoomi.” Motoya said, nodding at Kiyoomi’s phone as he plopped back down in his seat. Kiyoomi looked down at his phone to see that Atsumu had sent a thumbs up emoji in return. He turned his phone off.

“Don’t ask.” Kiyoomi’s voice held no room for argument. Motoya’s lips curled down into a petulant pout before he took a sip of coffee. Kiyoomi glanced back over at Suna one last time, watching the way that his eyes seemed to always wander back over to his cousin. “How long?”

“Mmm, maybe three months?” Motoya mused.

“I think he really likes you, Motoya. Don’t fuck around too much.” Motoya shrugged in response, as indifferently as he could, but there was a soft and fond twinkle in his eyes that said otherwise.

* * *

The cafe was pretty quiet when Kiyoomi stepped inside on Saturday at three twenty in the afternoon, the bell jingling merrily above him as the door opened. He spotted a head of fluffy blonde hair, partially hidden behind the counter, and there was a cheerful chirp of, “give me a moment and I’ll be right with you!” 

Kiyoomi waited for a few more moments before the head of blonde hair popped into view, curious brown eyes lit up by a brilliantly bright customer smile. As soon as Atsumu caught sight of Kiyoomi, the grin faltered, quickly replaced by a flush that crawled high on his cheeks.

“O-oh! Yer a little early.” Atsumu blinked, rubbing the back of his neck in a universally known shy and nervous gesture. “Er, give me a few more minutes and my shift will be over. Do ya want anythin’ to eat or drink?” Kiyoomi found himself paying attention to the accent that fell thick from Atsumu’s tongue.

“Just a cappuccino will do.” Kiyoomi replied, sliding over a few coins. Atsumu quickly rang up the order, handing Kiyoomi his change back on the counter.

“Then I’ll get it out to ya in a bit.” Atsumu said, offering a small smile. Kiyoomi dipped his head, feeling his lips curl up into a tiny smile beneath his mask. Kiyoomi turned to head in the direction of the same window seat he sat in a few days prior. His hands were tucked comfortably in the pockets of his slacks as he leaned back in his seat, looking out the window at the orange and red leaves swirling in the autumn air.

A few minutes later, movement from his peripheral vision caught his attention and he looked up as Atsumu approached with a coffee mug cradled in his hands.

“Here ya go,” Atsumu murmured, setting the mug down on the table before Kiyoomi before he slid into his seat across from Kiyoomi. He was no longer in the black apron for the cafe, now dressed in an oversized black hoodie with the characters for  _ who needs memories  _ written in white across his chest. Atsumu looked nervous, twisting his fingers together on the table top.

“Atsumu, right?” Atsumu jolted, nodding vigorously before he froze, squeaking out a  _ yes.  _ “There’s no need to act so skittish. I don’t bite. Unless you’d like me to?” Atsumu’s cheeks flushed.

“Er, s’just that I’ve never actually done somethin’ like this before.” Atsumu mumbled, and Kiyoomi realized how thick Atsumu’s accent really was.

“It’s nothing much, really.” Kiyoomi shrugged, tugging down his mask beneath his chin to take a sip of coffee. It was good. “My terms are pretty simple. I’ll pay you for your company, and give you a monthly allowance. If need be, I can cover any expenses. This includes rent, groceries, or perhaps a medical bill.”

“Is… there anything else?” Atsumu asked, tilting his head in a way that reminded Kiyoomi of a puppy.

“Why? Would you like there to be?” Kiyoomi asked, setting the coffee cup down to cross one leg over the other, elbow resting on a thigh. There was a slight, upwards curve to Atsumu’s lips as he replied.

“Well… I know I’m real hot and all, but most of the other messages were people wanting to pay me to have sex with them.” Atsumu’s brow furrowed, and Kiyoomi wasn’t certain what to feel at that moment — there was quite a bit to unpack in that single sentence, but there were three things he noticed. One, much like his profile picture, Atsumu Miya was narcissistic. Two, Atsumu was  _ cute,  _ and three, he was unlike any of the others who’d approached Kiyoomi before.

“That will likely come into part of the equation.” Kiyoomi said, shifting to pick up his mug to take another sip. “I would say that if I need the feel to relieve stress, I would expect your acquiescence, and it would work the other way around. Additionally, I understand that your academic and athletic life must be demanding, as my own, but we can work around our schedules. But if any of this makes you uncomfortable, then we can figure something else out.”

“Oh.” Atsumu shifted in his seat. “I’m okay with that. I just don’t want to feel like I’m getting money, or that I’m getting paid with my body.” Atsumu scrunched his nose up. Kiyoomi paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Atsumu.

“You’re a virgin.” Kiyoomi stated. Atsumu’s cheeks turned cherry red.

“I am not!” Atsumu sputtered. “I’ve dated someone a few years ago. But back to whatever we were talkin’ about. How long would this arrangement last?”

“You’re in your final year of university, correct?” Atsumu nodded in response. “I’m willing to continue this arrangement, if we so choose to go along with the terms, for the rest of your college education at least, and the first year you are out, whether that be working or as an athlete.” Kiyoomi paused, wracking his brain to see if he might’ve forgotten anything. “Is there anything you’d like to add, or request?” Kiyoomi asked. Atsumu furrowed his brow.

“Er, if we are to… get intimate,” Kiyoomi fought back a soft snort at Atsumu’s choice of words, “would it be alright if we… well, kept to each other? It’s important for me, as an athlete, to remain clean.”

“That’s fine,” Kiyoomi replied, before drinking the rest of his coffee. “I would also like to request no intimate skin-on-skin contact, as well.” Atsumu’s eyes flickered to the mask tucked beneath Kiyoomi’s chin and nodded.

“Am I required to accompany ya anywhere? Or is it just my company and stuff?” Atsumu asked, his broad shoulders seeming to finally relax beneath the fabric of his black hoodie. 

“If the occasion arises, yes, I will ask you to accompany me. I will pay you for that as well. Anything else?” Kiyoomi replied.

“Not that I can think of.” Atsum shifted in his seat, and Kiyoomi noted that Atsumu’s eyes had almost always been looking just left of Kiyoomi’s face. “There’s no need to act so skittish,” Kiyoomi repeated his statement from earlier. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.” Atsumu flushed and ducked his head, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck.

“Sorry. I feel a bit weird, since… well, my name’s not exactly… ya know, secretive.” Atsumu shifted awkwardly in his seat, and Kiyoomi remembered Atsumu’s bio;  _ collegiate MVP volleyball player based in Tokyo.  _ It would make sense that Atsumu would be at least somewhat well-known if he was considered to be an extremely skilled player at UTokyo. Kiyoomi shrugged in response instead.

“My family name is pretty well known, but no one other than my family members and past partner know of my lifestyle.” Kiyoomi replied. “So I imagine that you’d be fine.” Atsumu blinked, tilting his head.

“Yer family owns the Itachiyama Enterprise with the Komoris, right?” Kiyoomi nodded, before he leaned backwards, hooking one finger into his mask to tug it back over his face.

“So?” Kiyoomi prompted. “What do you think?” Atsumu was quiet for a few moments before he replied.

“Is… it alright if I think about it for a little bit?” Atsumu asked. Kiyoomi nodded. “Yer really hot, and I do like the terms ya got, and I am a bit of a broke college student and this current job is barely enough to cover my rent, but this is all really new and I-” Atsumu suddenly clamped his mouth shut, lips pressing into a thin line as an embarrassed pink flush crawled down his neck.

“You ramble a lot, don’t you?” Kiyoomi asked.

“Only when I’m nervous.” Atsumu bit back, and the first thing Kiyoomi thought was  _ cute; _ a word that he probably shouldn’t be using to describe a twenty-four year old.

“Well, contact me on the app once you’ve made up your mind and I’ll forward you some of my contact information, since that will be easier than using the app itself.” Atsumu nodded, straightening slightly in his seat.

“Will do.”

“Oh, I forgot one last thing,” Kiyoomi added, and Atsumu tilted his head. “If any feelings are caught, then the arrangement is off. I want no strings attached. I will, however, transfer money to you for the remainder of the year if this happens.” Atsumu worried his lower lip between his teeth, scrunching his nose up. There were a few beats of silence before Atsumu responded.

“Alright, that seems pretty easy.”

* * *

It had been about four days since Kiyoomi had met Atsumu in person at the coffee shop where the latter worked when he finally got a response.

**thebettermiya:** I want to go for it. I agree with your terms. Is there anything that I need to sign, or something like that?

**Sakusa_Kiyoomi:** No. It’s not anything professional, I should have mentioned it when we met in person a few days ago, so apologies for that.

**thebettermiya:** That’s okay! Should I send you my contact information?

**Sakusa_Kiyoomi:** That would be great, thank you.

**thebettermiya:** Here’s my number XXXX-XXX-XXX

Kiyoomi took off his reading glasses, placing them down by his book now cradled in his lap. He stretched, back cracking in several spots before he returned his attention to his phone. His eyes flickered up to the calendar hanging on the wall just across the room, eyes narrowing in on the date. 

October 17th, 2018.

His father always hosted the company’s fall gala event in mid-October, which gave Kiyoomi three days to tell Atsumu about it, give him the run down on the rules and figure out what to get him dressed in.

**Sakusa:** This is Sakusa.

**Atsumu:** Hi!

**Atsumu:** Er, what do you want me to refer to you as? Sakusa-san?

**Sakusa:** That’s a little weird, so no. If I’m not mistaken, I believe that I’m a year younger than you.

**Atsumu:** Oh, really? Can I call you Omi, then?

Kiyoomi scrunched his nose up, though he supposed it would be alright.

**Sakusa:** Sure.

**Atsumu:** Okay, Omi!

**Sakusa:** Do you have time later tonight?

**Atsumu:** I finish with practice at 18:00. Is there some place we can meet up? That you’d feel comfortable in, that is.

Kiyoomi blinked. He didn’t think that Atsumu would remember, or would know about Kiyoomi’s tendency to dislike crowded and dirty places when he’d never said anything explicitly about it.

**Sakusa:** It’s fine. Choose a place and I’ll meet you there.

**Atsumu:** Will do, Omi-Omi!

_ Omi-Omi.  _ Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, setting his phone aside as he got up from the couch to amble into his kitchen to fill up his electric kettle for some tea. He had another hour or so before he had to meet with another client, and about five hours until he was to meet with Atsumu. 

A strange feeling of excitement started to unfurl in the pit of Kiyoomi’s stomach.

* * *

“Sorry I’m late, Omi!” Kiyoomi looked up from his phone as he heard Atsumu’s voice. The blonde was hurrying towards him, carrying with him the smell of shower gel and the start of winter. The tip of his nose was pink from the slight chill in the air, and he wore no jacket of any kind but the black hoodie Kiyoomi had seen him in the first day they’d met.

Kiyoomi felt his lips tug down into a slight frown beneath his mask as he stood to greet Atsumu. The blonde’s hair was still slightly damp, and a gym back was slung over his shoulders.

“Do you not have a proper coat?” Kiyoomi asked, and Atsumu shook his head. He placed his bag down onto an empty seat across from Kiyoomi before sliding into the chair next to it, bringing his cold hands up to his mouth to blow hot air onto them.

“I don’t.” Atsumu admitted.

“Well, you can give me your size and I can purchase you some clothes.” Kiyoomi replied, resting his elbows on the table briefly to rest his chin on his steepled fingers.

“You don’t have to,” Atsumu protested. Kiyoomi arched a brow, and Atsumu flushed.

“Didn’t you make a profile on the app for a reason?” Atsumu ducked his head, an embarrassed grunt leaving his lips. Kiyoom snorted in response.

“Do ya know what ya wanna order?” Atsumu asked, dodging the question. Kiyoomi nodded in response, watching as the blonde turned, seemingly searching for someone before he waved at a waiter, whose eyes seemed to light up with recognition.

“Atsumu! It’s been a while. Who’s this?” Kiyoomi’s gaze flickered to Atsumu, who suddenly seemed very interested in the bottle of soy sauce on the table. Kiyoomi couldn’t tell whether to feel amused or endeared by the half-shy and half-almost bratty behaviour. “Michinari Akagi.” The waiter said, wiggling his fingers in greeting. “I went to high school with Atsumu. “It’s nice to finally see Atsumu out with someone.”

“Michinari Akagi,” Atsumu hissed, cheeks pink. Akagi simply grinned, before he took out a notepad and pen.

“What can I get you guys?” Akagi asked, as if embarrassing Atsumu was something he did often, and Kiyoomi wouldn’t doubt if that were true.

“I’ll have tonkotsu ramen, and barley water.” Kiyoomi said, setting his menu down on the table, before threading his fingers together to rest his chin on them.

“Shoyu ramen, a side of gyoza and just water.” Atsumu mumbled. Akagi scribbled down their orders, eyes darting from Atsumu to Kiyoomi a couple times in a wordless question. He didn’t say anything, but Kiyoomi had a feeling that Atsumu would later be bombarded with questions.

“I’ll be out in a bit with your orders.” Akagi said, with a practiced bow before he hurried back behind the counter.

“Just ignore what he said,” Atsumu blurted.

“I’m not bothered.” Kiyoomi shrugged. “When we first met, you said that you hadn’t dated anyone in a few years. Based on how our conversation continued to go, you don’t seem like the type to sleep around.” Atsumu blushed, tugging at the neck of his hoodie with a slight scowl on his face.

“Why did you want to meet?” Atsumu asked, diverting the question.  _ Brat. _ Kiyoomi thought, amusedly.

“Are you free this weekend?” Kiyoomi asked. Atsumu frowned, staring down at the table before his eyes flickered up to meet Kiyoomi’s.

“I am. I have a tournament next weekend, though.” Atsumu said, patting his gym bag next to him.

“Right. Well, first things first, I’m going to need to know your bank information so I can transfer your money, and I’m going to give you a rundown on what you need to do to get ready for this weekend.” Kiyoomi said, leaning back in his seat, taking a moment to get a read on Atsumu. The blonde looked startled, and confused.

“This weekend? What’s goin’ on this weekend?” Atsumu asked.

“My father’s hosting his annual fall gala event at the enterprise. As always, I’m expected to go and I’m going to need you to accompany me.” Kiyoomi explained. “The event is this Sunday.”

“I don’t have anything fancy.” Atsumu protested. Kiyoomi slipped his hand into his pocket and picked out his credit card, holding it up between two fingers with an arched brow. Atsumu flushed.

“Have you already forgotten?” Kiyoomi asked, tone slightly teasing.

“No.” Atsumu scowled, a petulant pout drawing his lips down. Akagi chose that moment to arrive at their table with their drinks, telling them that their food would be ready in just a minute.

“The met gala will more than likely have influencers and other company CEOs there, perhaps some celebrities, and important public figures.” Kiyoomi continued. “Either on Friday afternoon or Saturday, I will have you fitted for a suit for you to wear to the gala. It begins at seven thirty in the evening, and I don’t know how long it will go on for, but I never stay for over two hours.” Atsumu was staring at him with wide-eyes as Kiyoomi continued to rattle off a list of things that Atsumu needed to do.

“Don’t worry too much.” Kiyoomi reassured. “It might seem like a lot right now, but I can message you with the details later on, and it will be a much shorter list. All you really need to do is just stay next to me for the evening, and if anyone talks to you while I’m talking to someone else, indulge them unless they make you uncomfortable.” Atsumu nodded, still looking quite winded. “Would you prefer me to wait to finish explaining after we’ve eaten?” Kiyoomi asked, catching sight of Akagi heading in their direction, balancing a tray steadily on his arms.

Atsumu nodded, and they thanked Akagi as he set down two piping hot bowls of ramen before them, sliding Atsumu’s gyoza on the table as well. Akagi gave them a short bow, before he hurried off to take an order from another table.

Atsumu looked as happy as a clam as he immediately dug in, and Kiyoomi waited a few minutes, watching the steam curl and dance from the surface of the creamy broth before he picked up his own chopsticks, tugging his mask beneath his chin before he began to eat.

It was good. Atsumu finished first, licking his lips and setting his chopsticks down with a contented sigh, though his gaze was wistful as he stared at his empty bowl. Kiyoomi, who was just about done with his, paused.

“If you’d like anything else to eat, feel free to get it. I’ll pay.” Atsumu hesitated, and Kiyoomi let him squirm a little longer as he picked up his bowl and drank the remainder of the broth. “I understand that this is your first time being involved in a lifestyle like this. But I’ve been doing it for the past four or so years, and it’s something that I enjoy. I want you to feel comfortable enough around me to ask for things you want. I understand that we just met, and barely know anything about each other, but that’s what this next couple years is about, isn’t it?”

Atsumu nodded, though it was a little hesitant.

“It’s just a bowl of ramen.” Kiyoomi continued. Atsumu scratched at the back of his neck. “Don’t you need good food and energy if you’re an athlete?” Atsumu pouted, crossing his arms across his chest. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, and waved at Akagi, who nodded in his direction from taking the orders from another table. 

“What can I help you guys with?” Akagi asked, as he collected their empty bowls and plates.

“Could we get another bowl for Atsumu?” Kiyoomi asked. Atsumu made a noise of half-hearted protest, and Akagi laughed.

“I was a little confused when Atsumu only ordered one bowl.” Akagi admitted, setting the tray down on the table to scribble down the order on his notepad.

“Omi-” Atsumu started, and Kiyoomi was able to silence him with a single look. Atsumu scowled. “I don’t want ya to have to pay fer me.”

“I said that it’s just a bowl of ramen.”

Kiyoomi arched a brow. Atsumu grumbled something beneath his breath. Akagi seemed to be frozen, as if he wasn’t sure what to do. “Just that for him.” Kiyoomi confirmed. Akagi nodded, and there seemed to be something slightly off, as if Akagi had suddenly understood everything that was going on.

“You know, Tsumu, I was wondering how long it would be before you caved in.” Akagi said, cackling when Atsumu suddenly lurched up, swiping at Akagi as he easily danced out of the way. Atsumu’s cheeks were red as Akagi hurried away to the kitchen.

“My brother.” Atsumu said, finally. Kiyoomi, who’d been sending a few texts to his father confirming his presence at the gala on the weekend, looked up.

“Hm?”

“I’ve got a twin brother, s’name is Osamu. Er,” Atsumu paused, scrubbing at the back of his head. “He got one about three months ago when he was strugglin’ to pay his rent and get his restaurant off the ground.”

“Got one what?” Kiyoomi asked, just to be a little difficult. He watched Atsumu squirm in his seat, before mumbling something beneath his breath. “I can’t hear you, Atsumu.”

“A sugar daddy.” Atsumu muttered petulantly. “I didn’t know until about a month ago, and of course I was a lil’ mad because I was still struggling financially, and Samu wasn’t even in university! So I did what Samu says I do best and ‘pparently was just complainin’ all the time about how shitty things were goin’ fer me, so he caved and helped me set up a profile.”

“You were quite popular, which was impressive given that your profile was barely a day old when I saw it.” Kiyoomi mused, taking note that Atsumu’s accent had gotten quite a bit thicker. Atsumu rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

“Well, like I said before, I know I’m real hot n’ stuff, but it’s still weird to see that a lot of people just want to hook up.” Atsumu shrugged, though there was a slant of discomfort to his brow.

Kiyoomi decided not to press further, knowing that it would be important to gain each other’s trust before he started asking any further questions.

“Those offers are unavoidable wherever you go.” Kiyoomi said. “Now, since we both have some food in our stomachs, would you like me to summarize what we need to do by Sunday?”

“Yeah.” Atsumu played with the chopsticks on the table. “I understand that we need ta get me fitted for a suit, stay close to you during the event, and if someone talks to me, converse with them unless I get uncomfortable.”

“That’s the gist.” Kiyoomi nodded. 

“So other than that, I just stand with ya and look pretty?” Kiyoomi rolled his eyes and Atsumu grinned in response.

“You really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Well, I got no one to compliment me, so I’ve gotta do it myself, yaknow?” Atsumu said, sticking his nose in the air in an exaggerated motion.

“That’s because your ego doesn’t need anymore inflating.” Akagi said, rapping his knuckles against the back of Atsumu’s head as he set down a fresh bowl of shoyu ramen. Atsumu wrinkled his nose.

“Whaddya mean? My ego is practically non-existent.” Atsumu scoffed, and Akagi shot Kiyoomi a deadpan expression, mouthing  _ I’m sorry,  _ and Kiyoomi shook his head, allowing an amused smile to quirk at the corner of his lips.

“Let him do what he wants. At the end of the day, I’m still spoiling him, that’s what we sugar daddies do.” Kiyoomi said, with a perfectly flat expression on his face. Akagi made a noise that was crossed between a laugh and a choke, and Atsumu nearly spat out his mouthful of noodles, cheeks blazing.

_ “Omi!”  _ It was almost a wail. Kiyoomi nudged his foot beneath the table.

“Stop being a whiny brat and eat your damn ramen.” Kiyoomi said. “You’re drawing the attention of other people.”

“And are you  _ sure  _ it wasn’t because of what ya said?” Atsumu gaped, cheeks still a little pink.

“What are you talking about?” Kiyoomi arched a brow.

_ “Akagi!”  _ Atsumu turned to his friend, who immediately lifted his hands up in the air in surrender, shrugging.

“Woah, don’t get me involved, I’m just your waiter.” Akagi said, as he inched away.

“Bullshit.” Atsumu huffed, before he stuffed a mouthful of piping hot noodles into his mouth. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes and reached into his jacket pocket to pull out his wallet, taking out a couple of bills.

He’d already calculated how much he needed to pay, and it came out to just over five thousand yen.

“Here.” Kiyoomi handed two five thousand yen bills to Akagi, whose eyes went wide.

“Oh, this is way over what you need to pay. Let me go get my change bag.” Akagi went to move, but Kiyoomi shook his head.

“Nah, it’s fine.” Kiyoomi replied, and Akagi looked hesitant. “You don’t need to take it, but consider it as thanks for the amusement for tonight.”

“Hey!” Atsumu protested, his mouth full of noodles. The pair ignored him.

“Oh, well, thank you. I really appreciate it… uh…” Akagi trailed off.

“Sakusa.” Kiyoomi provided.

“I appreciate it, Sakusa-san. Take care of Atsumu for us. You’re welcome back here whenever, with or without Atsumu!” Akagi grinned, bowing.

“Thanks a lot, best friend.” Atsumu grumbled, pushing aside the now empty bowl of ramen, before snagging a napkin to wipe his mouth. Akagi simply ruffled his hair as he bid the pair a good evening and hurried to the back.

“He’s nice.” Kiyoomi commented, and Atsumu scowled.

“Are you only agreeing with him because he was teasing me?” Atsumu asked.

“You do make it rather easy.” Kiyoomi shrugged.

“Omi!” Atsumu whined. Kiyoomi swiped up his phone to slide it into his coat pocket.

“Thanks for showing me this place, I think I’ll probably come back at some point.” Kiyoomi said. Atsumu ducked his head, almost bashfully. It still struck Kiyoomi as a mystery to how quickly Atsumu’s demeanour changed. Perhaps Akagi was right, inflating Atsumu’s ego, or rather complimenting him — no matter how small — was enough to put him in a better mood.

Kiyoomi tucked those details away for later.

He stood, draping his coat over his arm, drawing up his mask once more and tilted his head at Atsumu. Atsumu scrambled to his feet, grabbing his gym bag and casting a quick glance at their area to see if he had everything.

“How far away do you live? I can drive you.” Atsumu hummed as they left the restaurant.

“I’m about a ten minute walk away, so it’s fine! I should try to work off some of the calories that I ate.” Atsumu said, glancing up at Kiyoomi, as if to see his reaction. “I’m fine, really.” Atsumu insisted at Kiyoomi’s arched brow. He was already shivering. Kiyoomi took out his wallet and phone from his jacket pocket and drew it around Atsumu’s shoulders.

“Take that on your walk home, at least.” Kiyoomi said, placing a finger at Atsumu’s lips when he tried to protest. “No protesting. I’ll text you later with the rest of the details for what’s happening on the weekend.” Atsumu’s mouth screwed to one side, nose scrunching up.

“Fine.” Kiyoomi watched, satisfied as Atsumu drew the coat closer to him, burrowing into the warmth of it. “Then, uh, I’ll see ya in a couple days?” Kiyoomi nodded, watching as Atsumu shifting his weight from foot to foot, as if he wanted to say something else. Whatever it was, it seemed that Atsumu decided not to say anything, and he offered Kiyoomi a bright smile. 

“Then I’ll see ya on Friday or Saturday! G’night Omi-Omi!” With that, Atsumu turned, bounding down the street, the coat fluttering around him. Kiyoomi watched, resting his weight on one leg as his breath curled around him like white smoke, until Atsumu disappeared from sight.


	2. There's Something About You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have a big dick.” Atsumu finally blurted, twisting his fingers together. Kiyoomi, who’d pulled out his phone to drive the point home that he really wasn’t going to start driving again until Atsumu spoke, looked up.
> 
> “I figured it was something along those lines.” Kiyoomi replied, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Atsumu flushed, shooting Kiyoomi a flustered glare.
> 
> “Then why’d ya ask?” Atsumu demanded, struggling to sit upright, but the seatbelt held fast, snapping him right back into the leather seats. Kiyoomi turned to look at Atsumu and oh. Atsumu’s face was red, the flush reaching down his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warning:** There is talk about a past, abusive relationship. There’s also a short segment where there’s a retell of a memory of being sexually harassed. There’s also mentions of drugs and alcohol, but nothing explicitly mentioned. It’s a couple of paragraphs.
> 
> If you feel uncomfortable reading things like this, it starts at _“Can you give me more of the details?” Kiyoomi asked._ and ends at _Through her retelling of her relationship, Kita’s voice remained calm and level, but her eyes told a whole different story._
> 
> Atsumu does get tipsy/drunk later on in the chapter. Nothing bad happens out of it.

“Hi, Omi-kun.” Kiyoomi glanced up from his phone, his frown melting off of his face as he heard the familiar voice of Atsumu; a bit of a shy whisper with a thin veneer of Kansai-ben that rose above the chatter in the mall around them. Atsumu was dressed in a cream sweater that reached just past his waist that complimented his bronzed skin and blonde hair. 

It hung loosely around his shoulders from obvious years of wear, dipping just low enough to expose sharp collarbones. To compliment - or rather to contradict, Atsumu wore tight, dark wash jeans that clung to his muscular thighs.

“Why’re ya starin’ at me? Say something.” Atsumu whined as a lovely flush crawled up his cheeks when Kiyoomi stayed silent.

“Something,” Kiyoomi hummed in response. Atsumu’s jaw dropped just a little bit. Kiyoomi kept his expression carefully deadpan as he inclined his head in the direction to the store entrance just to his left. Atsumu’s gaze followed Kiyoom’s gesture, eyes growing wide, jaw dropping further when he caught sight of the mannequins dressed in suits, the prices printed in big, bold letters behind.

“Uh-” Atsumu stuttered, a small yelp leaving his lips as Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, reaching out to grab his wrist with a gloved hand. Almost immediately, Kiyoomi was greeted by a few of the staff members with bows and formal greetings, prompting Atsumu to send him a curious look.

“Welcome, Sakusa-sama! Is this your guest for today?” Terushima Yūji approached Kiyoomi with a bright smile, hands tucked politely before him. Kiyoomi nodded, gesturing for Atsumu to step forward.

“I need you to take his measurements so we can find a suit for my father’s gala event tomorrow.” Terushima nodded, before he turned to Atsumu with a blindingly bright smile.

“Well, Sakusa-sama, if you could lead your guest to the fitting rooms, and I’ll go grab Yaku from the back and we can get started.” Terushima turned briskly on his heel to stride off to the back, and Atsumu watched with a rather dazed expression.

“Atsumu, you alright?”

“Yeah. Just… tryin’ to take it all in.” Atsumu breathed, his eyes still wide. “Everything’s so expensive. Is this really not a lot to ya?” Kiyoomi shrugged.

“Not really, no.” Kiyoomi slipped his hands into his pocket before he made his way to the fitting rooms, not bothering to check if Atsumu was following. He heard a soft gasp, before hurried footsteps came after him just as he reached the door to the fitting rooms. “Hurry up,” Kiyoomi teased, watching as Atsumu huffed, a small pout curling at the corner of his lips.

As they entered the fitting room, the smell of cleaning alcohol stung their noses, sharp and pungent in the air. There was an open window, Kiyoomi figured it was to help circulate the air. Kiyoomi sat down on the couch, crossing his legs. Atsumu fidgeted.

“All right! Let’s get started.” Atsumu jumped as the door to the fitting room burst open, Terushima and Yaku striding in. “We’re gonna need you to strip down to undergarments.” Atsumu’s eyes widened slightly, cheeks coloring.

“O-oh.” Atsumu shifted, fingers curling into the hem of his cream sweater, hesitating. His gaze flickered over to Kiyoomi, before resting on Terushima and Yaku, who each held a tape measure and a clipboard.

“We can close the window and turn up the heat if you think you’ll get cold.” Yaku offered, his voice much calmer and mellower than Terushima’s.

“No, it’s fine.” Atsumu mumbled, before he shifted, digging his hands into his pockets to take out a wallet and phone, before he tugged the cream sweater over his head. He was wearing a white short sleeved shirt beneath it, and as the fabric lifted, Kiyoomi caught sight of red marks and indents in Atsumu’s waist. The blonde shrugged off the rest of the shirt, draping it over the back of a chair. 

“Athlete?” Terushima asked, and Atsumu nodded, unbuttoning his jeans to tug them down past his waist. Kiyoomi felt his brow furrow slightly. The reddened marks on Atsumu’s skin was from the elastic of his boxer briefs, much too tight and digging into his skin in what must be a painful manner. Atsumu’s hands fell awkwardly to his sides, half covering his crotch. 

“Why are you wearing underwear that’s much too tight around your waist?” Kiyoomi asked, and Atsumu’s shoulders almost flinched inwards.

“Er, no reason, Omi-kun.” Atsumu stuttered, before he kicked his jeans off the rest of the way, almost tripping in his haste to step onto the stool that was set up.

“Arms out,” Terushima instructed, pulling the tape measure out to take note of the length of Atsumu’s arms as Yaku placed his tape measure at Atsumu’s hip. Atsumu was forced to move his hands, and Kiyoomi found his eyes tracing the length of Atsumu’s body curiously.

Kiyoomi might be a standoffish prick eighty percent of the time, and a clean freak the last twenty percent, but he was still a hot-blooded bisexual male who had a gorgeous specimen standing a meter away from him clad only in boxer briefs.

Atsumu seemed even more muscular and fit before Kiyoomi than he did in his photos, so he guessed those were older pictures; or perhaps it was because of how tense Atsumu looked. As the tape measure moved across Atsumu’s arms and legs, wrapped once around his waist, Kiyoomi noted the way that the muscles jumped and flexed beneath his skin.

“I know I’m hot n’ all, but it’s a lil’ weird to have yer gaze be that intense, Omi.” Kiyoomi dragged his gaze from the dips and lines of Atsumu’s muscular and thick thighs, deliberately letting his eyes linger on the bulge between the blonde’s legs, the washboard abs and well-defined pecs before meeting Atsumu’s embarrassed expression.

“Yer gonna have to deal with it, then.” Kiyoomi replied, mimicking Atsumu’s Kansai-ben perfectly. There was a soft hitch of breath that escaped Atsumu’s lips, and Kiyoomi watched with a tiny smirk hidden beneath his mask as Atsumu jerked his gaze away, cheeks pink.

The room fell silent again, broken only by the ding of Kiyoomi’s phone, a text message sent by Komori.

**Komori:** You’re going to the gala tomorrow, right?

**Sakusa:** I am.

**Komori:** Bringing a plus one?

**Sakusa:** Yep, getting him fitted for a suit right now.

Kiyoomi set his phone down as Yaku stood, dusting off his pants. Terushima was scribbling something down on his clipboard furiously, and Atsumu was free to let his hands drop down to his sides, hands inching inwards to cover his crotch once again, as if the others in the room hadn’t already seen it.

“Alright, well, we’re going to bring in a few suits for you to try on that best fit these measurements we’ve taken.” Yaku said. “Sakusa-sama, we’ll get the suit with…” He paused, casting a glance at Atsumu.

“Atsumu.” Atsumu offered.

“We’ll get Atsumu’s suit to you in a week max.”

“A week?” Atsumu gaped, head whipping in Kiyoomi’s direction. “Isn’t yer thing tomorrow?” Kiyoomi uncrossed his legs, standing up from the couch in a smooth motion, pocketing his phone.

“Yes. The suit you’re getting fitted for will be for another event in a few weeks. That one is much more formal, which is why we’re doing this now.” Kiyoomi explained.

“This one’s not very formal?” Atsumu asked, brow furrowed.

“No, it’s still formal.” Kiyoomi felt amused as he watched Atsumu’s expression twist into one of confusion.

“I’m never gonna understand rich people stuff.” Atsumu’s lips turned down into a half scowl, half pout. Yaku and Terushima laughed, and Kiyoomi let an amused huff pass through the mask. Terushima hurried out of the fitting room a few minutes later with Yaku in tow, and both Atsumu and Kiyoomi were left alone in a rather charged, awkward silence.

“How did those get there?” Kiyoomi asked, gesturing with his head to the red indents from a too tight waistband littering his hips and lower stomach.

“How did what get there?” Atsumu asked, and Kiyoomi arched a slender eyebrow in response. Atsumu refused to look at him. Kiyoomi reached out, barely brushing the tips of his gloved fingers against the skin just above Atsumu’s waistband. Atsumu’s muscles jumped, a gasp escaping his lips and immediately flinched backwards, nearly toppling backwards off the stool.

Kiyoomi quickly reached out, looping an arm around Atsumu’s waist before he brained himself on the edge of a shelf behind him. Atsumu’s skin was hot to the touch, even through the gloves and Kiyoomi’s clothes. The dark-haired man settled Atsumu back down onto his feet.

“You gonna stop being a brat and tell me?” Kiyoomi asked, arching a brow. Atsumu blushed, shoving his hands between their chests to push Kiyoomi away. Kiyoomi released Atsumu, and took a few steps back to let the athlete recollect himself.

“We never agreed to tell each other about ourselves.” Atsumu mumbled petulantly.

“Don’t you think it would make sense? I  _ am  _ paying you vast sums of money on my own accord. You could do the very least and explain to me why you’re voluntarily hurting yourself every day.” Atsumu squirmed beneath Kiyoomi’s gaze.

“I will. Later.” Atsumu finally caved. Yaku and Terushima strode through the door a few moments later, pushing a clothing rack with a few different suits.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

* * *

“Omi-Omi, that was so tiring.” Kiyoomi’s gaze flickered away from the road briefly to see Atsumu in the passenger’s seat, arms crossed over his chest, lips turned down into a pout and his cheek squished against the glass window of the car as he puffed his other cheek out.

_ Cute. _

Kiyoomi returned his gaze to the road.

“You did well. We got you a suit that fits for tomorrow.” Kiyoomi replied, referring to the suit laid out carefully across the backseat.

“It’s still a bit big,” Atsumu mumbled. Kiyoomi recalled the way the suit jacket hung a little loosely around Atsumu’s shoulders, the way the pants hung a little too loosely around his hips without a belt, and how the cuffs around his wrists left too much empty space.

“Would you rather have something that allowed you a little bit of movement, or something that restricts your ability to breathe?” Kiyoomi practically drawled.

“If tight clothing makes me look hot, then the latter.” Atsumu’s lips curled up into a slightly self-satisfied smile at that. Kiyoomi fought the urge to roll his eyes.

“If it makes irritable red indents in your skin, that’s probably not healthy.” Kiyoomi replied pointedly, pressing his foot gently on the gas pedal at a red light, turning to fix Atsumu with a hard stare. Atsumu squirmed beneath his scrutiny. Kiyoomi dropped his gaze to Atsumu’s waist, and the blonde squirmed in his seat, not so discreetly tugging the hem of his sweater past his hips.

“Why’re you so adamant on covering your crotch?” Kiyoomi asked, and Atsumu jerked upright from the window, choking on presumably his own spit, eyes flying wide open. The light turned green and Kiyoomi started to drive, determined to wrangle some sort of answer out of the blonde. Kiyoomi drove for a few more minutes, and when Atsumu didn’t reply, he pulled into a nearly empty parking lot off the side of the road and killed the engine.

“Omi-” Atsumu protested.

“I’m not starting the car again until you explain,” Kiyoomi replied firmly. “I don’t want this to be awkward, so I’d prefer it if we could be somewhat open with each other.” Atsumu wriggled in his seat for a few more seconds before he heaved out a sigh. He still remained quiet. Kiyoomi waited. Atsumu fidgeted.

“I have a big dick.” Atsumu finally blurted, twisting his fingers together. Kiyoomi, who’d pulled out his phone to drive the point home that he really wasn’t going to start driving again until Atsumu spoke, looked up.

“I figured it was something along those lines.” Kiyoomi replied, slipping his phone back into his pocket. Atsumu flushed, shooting Kiyoomi a flustered glare.

“Then why’d ya ask?” Atsumu demanded, struggling to sit upright, but the seatbelt held fast, snapping him right back into the leather seats. Kiyoomi turned to look at Atsumu and oh. Atsumu’s face was red, the flush reaching down his neck.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Atsumu. Some people have big dicks, others have average and some have tiny dicks.” Kiyoomi stated as bluntly as he could, and Atsumu let out a painfully high wheezing noise.

“But it feels weird to just…” Atsumu paused, visibly struggling to figure out how to word his sentence, “have everything… hang loose.” Kiyoomi let out a soft snort, feeling partially amused, partially exasperated.

“I’m not gonna judge you. But I want you to stop wearing those briefs that are obviously too tight for you.” Kiyoomi replied, watching Atsumu as he crossed his arms over his chest in his peripheral vision.

“What if I don’t wanna?” Atsumu scowled.

“Then I’ll hire someone to break into your apartment and steal all your underwear, so then you’re forced to deal with everything hanging loose.” Kiyoomi felt his lips tug up into a tiny smirk, lifting his hands briefly from the wheel to add finger quotes to his last two words. Atsumu blushed again.

“Ya can do that?” Atsumu sputtered. Kiyoomi shrugged his shoulders in response. “I’ll just buy more.” Atsumu grumbled.

“Then I’ll just hire the same person again.” Kiyoomi countered.

“Ain’t that an invasion of privacy?” Atsumu nearly wailed, throwing his hands up in the air.

“I’ll buy you boxer briefs that keep things in place, but won't cut into your skin.” Kiyoomi said instead, shifting to turn the engine back on, satisfied that he got some semblance of an answer. “No arguments.” Kiyoomi warned as Atsumu’s lips parted, most likely to protest. 

“It's embarrassin.” Atsumu mumbled, collapsing back into his seat with a soft huff.

“How so?” Kiyoomi hummed as he pulled out of the parking lot, carefully easing his way back into the main road.

“It's not just that I have a,” Atsumu paused, before lifting his hands to add finger quotes, “big dick. Er, I was told that it's bigger?” Atsumu’s voice lilted higher at the end, as if posing a question rather than a statement. Atsumu squirmed in his seat when Kiyoomi didn’t respond. 

“Alright.”

“Alright?!” Atsumu squawked. “That’s all ya have ta say?”

“Was I supposed to say something? Congratulations on having a monster cock?” Kiyoomi asked in his most deadpan tone, arching a brow. He saw Atsumu’s jaw drop, his blush coming back in full force, ears, nose and neck going red.

“I dunno,” Atsumu managed, slumping down in his seat to cover his face. He peeked up at Kiyoomi when the car slowed down at a red light.

“What? Were you already thinking about our  _ stress relief  _ agreement?” Kiyoomi asked teasingly, his voice dipping low as he tilted his head to glance at Atsumu. Atsumu shook his head violently, responding much too quickly to be considered normal. Kiyoomi eased his foot down on the gas pedal, the car moving forwards as the light above turned green.

“There’s nothin’ wrong with thinkin’ ahead, Omi.” Atsumu grumbled, his blush still lingering high on his cheeks. There was definitely something else that Atsumu wasn’t telling him, but Kiyoomi supposed it was only fair; he’d already prodded enough. A few minutes of silence later, and Atsumu spoke up, “will ya tell me somethin’ about you, Omi?”

“Like what?” Kiyoomi asked, as they finally drove out of the city center.

“I dunno, anything. I told ya something about me that I’ve only ever told one person about before. Enlighten me at least a little! Aren’t we supposed to be open with each other?”

“I suppose so.” Kiyoomi hummed. “I’ve got a cousin, who you’ll meet tomorrow. I graduated from high school when I was sixteen, and went straight into law school. I graduated about three months ago.”

“Omi! That’s not embarrassing!” Atsumu cried out.  _ God, why was this grown man such a brat, but equally as hot and attractive at the same time? _

“You never said it had to be.” Kiyoomi replied easily. Atsumu let out a garbled noise. 

“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone. I already told you mine.”

“Didn’t you say you told another person?” Kiyoomi arched a brow.

“Well, they technically found out themselves… so, er…” Atsumu rubbed the back of his neck.

“Alright.” Kiyoomi tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. He could feel Atsumu’s wide-eyed gaze boring into him. “You never said when.”

“What about now?” Atsumu asked.

“You should’ve been more specific the first time.”

“Why are you so annoying?” Atsumu whined. Kiyoomi’s gaze slid over to the pouting blonde.

“Takes one to know one,” Kiyoomi snorted. Atsumu stomped his foot. It was oddly endearing, but at the same time, Kiyoomi wanted to see Atsumu writhing beneath his body, naked and squirming in his expensive bed sheets, begging for release.

“Ya know, if I could drive, I’d pull the same stunt you did.” Atsumu pouted.

“You can’t drive?”

“I’m not answerin’.” Atsumu huffed. Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. The rest of the ride was mostly silent, save for the last few minutes when Kiyoomi decided to poke a little bit of fun at Atsumu again.

“So,  _ nothin’ wrong with thinkin’ ahead, Omi? _ ” Kiyoomi prompted. Atsumu scowled, though there was a faint dusting of red to his cheeks. 

“Yer brutal.” Atsumu pouted. He rubbed the back of his neck, shifting in his seat, playing with the seatbelt settled between his pecs. 

Kiyoomi already had a general idea of what was going on through Atsumu’s head — it wasn’t too hard to piece together. Atsumu was clearly attractive, and a collegiate MVP athlete at the very least, so Kiyoomi wouldn’t be surprised if the blonde had a large fanbase already.

“Yer really hot.” Atsumu blurted, as UTokyo came into view. “And I haven’t been in any sort of relationship fer the past eight years, so I feel like I’ve kinda forgotten how all this works, and since this isn’t a normal relationship, like we’re datin’ or anythin’, I have no idea what to expect.”

“So you're nervous.” A nod. “I can understand that Atsumu. It’s always a bit awkward the first few times.”

“First few times? How many people have ya done this with before?” Atsumu’s eyes were wide.

“Two.” Kiyoomi replied, before shooting Atsumu a questioning look as he pulled into the university’s parking lot. “Don’t worry, I always use protection if that's what you're worried about.” Atsumu grinned sheepishly.

“I figured it was something like that.” Atsumu gestured towards Kiyoomi’s mask and gloved hands.

“You’re clean, I’m presuming?” Atsumu huffed at that, as if offended that Kiyoomi even had to ask.

“Of course I am, Omi! It’s required of all athletes, and if I do wanna go pro then I gotta make sure that I’m clean.” Atsumu crossed his arms over his broad chest. Kiyoomi wasn’t certain if it was a gesture where Atsumu was trying to appear older, but he looked much too soft and boyish in his sweater. Kiyoomi didn’t mention it.

“Besides,” Kiyoomi started, leaning across the console of the car, tugging his mask just beneath his chin to watch as Atsumu shifted backwards, eyes widening. “Why’re you so worried about the size of your cock? Afraid that it would intimidate me too much when the time comes to fuck? You think that I won’t be able to take it?”

Atsumu was clearly flustered, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out at all, eyes scanning rapidly over Kiyoomi’s features.

“My last relationship failed because of my dick!” Atsumu blurted, covering his face with his hands, peeking out at Kiyoomi between his fingers. “She broke up with me.” He frowned, and Kiyoomi arched a brow.

“So you’re afraid that once I see your dick, I’ll want to call the arrangement off?” Kiyoomi asked, bluntly. Atsumu flinched, before he worried his lower lip with his teeth before he nodded slowly. Kiyoomi felt his lips quirk up into an amused grin, watching Atsumu’s eyes widening slightly. 

“Who said that you’d be the one to top?” Kiyoomi asked, voice dipping low into what was practically a purr. Atsumu’s breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping as the blonde squirmed in the seat. “Just because we’re a year apart doesn’t mean that you’d be the one on top.” Kiyoomi watched as Atsumu’s eyes fell to his lips, the bob of his throat as he swallowed thickly. “In fact, I think that you’re definitely the type to preen and get off when someone praises you.”

A tiny and strangled  _ fuck  _ slipped past Atsumu’s lips, his breathing heavier than normal, pupils blown wide as he stared at Kiyoomi, that pretty blush back in full force. Kiyoomi pulled back, tugging his mask back over his face.

“I’ll see ya tomorrow!” Atsumu gasped, his hands fumbling for the car door. Kiyoomi caught a glimpse of Atsumu yanking his sweater down to cover his crotch as he stumbled out of the car.

“Don’t forget the suit!” Kiyoomi called out, just before Atsumu could shut the door. The backseat door opened and Atsumu poked his head back in, hooking the suit over one arm to hug it close to his chest.

“Thanks for today.” Atsumu mumbled, before he carefully shut the door. Kiyoomi watched Atsumu stride across the parking lot towards the campus, gait a little bit awkward. Kiyoomi allowed a smile to tug at the corner of his lips.

* * *

“What am I supposed to do?” Atsumu hissed, snagging Kiyoomi’s sleeve. Atsumu was huddled close to Kiyoomi, eyes wide as he took in the hotel’s expensive lobby. Kiyoomi gently tugged his sleeve from Atsumu’s grip, ushering him towards the ballroom, where he recognized his father’s secretary standing by the door.

“Behave. Don’t be bratty.” Kiyoomi replied simply, and a small noise of protest left Atsumu’s throat.

“I’m never bratty.” Atsumu mumbled petulantly, tugging at the sleeves of his suit. Atsumu’s once neatly styled bangs were messy, from how many times he’d run his fingers through the blonde strands. Kiyoomi was certain that the slacks were crumpled and creased, since Atsumu had curled his fingers into the fabric and flattened his palms against the pants several times.

“You look fine, stop worrying.” Kiyoomi said, batting Atsumu’s hands away. “You’re going to look worse if you keep pulling at your clothes.” Atsumu immediately pulled his hands away, offering Kiyoomi a weak smile.

“I’m good.” Atsumu said, and Kiyoomi arched a brow. “I’ll be fine,” Atsumu insisted. Kiyoomi shrugged, and strode in the direction of the ballroom’s door.

“Kiyoomi-kun!” Hayato bowed politely, his hands clasped before him. His eyes flickered to Atsumu. “Your guest for the evening?”

“Yes,” Kiyoomi nodded. Hayato bowed once more before moving aside, gesturing at the crowded ballroom behind him.

“Please enjoy your evening.” Hayato smiled, and Atsumu gave a slight bow before hurrying after Kiyoomi. Kiyoomi spotted his cousin almost immediately, talking with a couple of people he recognized to be associated with the Bouncing Ball Corporation. Atsumu let out a soft noise of surprise, eyes going wide as he caught sight of Suna, standing next to Motoya, hands stuffed in his pockets.

As if feeling someone’s eyes on him, Suna looked up, his expression mimicking Atsumu’s. Suna tapped on Motoya’s shoulder, bending down to murmur something to him, before Motoya’s eyes fell on Kiyoomi.

“Hey, Kiyo!” Kiyoomi pressed his fingertips briefly to the small of Atsumu’s back, encouraging him to move forward before he greeted Motoya and the two others with a dip of his head.

“Kenma-san, Kuroo-san,” Kiyoomi greeted. “Sorry to interrupt.” Kuroo gave Kiyoomi a blindingly bright grin, propping one hand on his hip. Kenma looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here; Kiyoomi could relate.

“Kiyoomi!” Kiyoomi turned when he heard his father’s booming voice, offering an apologetic look to the three before him, turning to spot his father waving at him. Kiyoomi stepped away from the three, eyes briefly scanning the room for Atsumu. He caught sight of him off to the side, standing with Suna, looking far more at ease. Kiyoomi supposed that it would be safe to leave Atsumu with Suna – they seemed to have a good relationship, and they  _ did  _ work at the same cafe, after all.

“Good evening,” Kiyoomi stopped before his father, who was standing next to a young woman, perhaps a year or two older than Kiyoomi himself. She was quite pretty, with shoulder length grey hair with inky dipped tips, curious golden eyes that reminded him of Atsumu’s.

“This is Kita-san.” Kiyoomi’s father, Satoh, said. “She's looking for a lawyer, so I’ll let you both get more acquainted with each other.” Satoh paused, looking around Kiyoomi as if searching for someone. “Did you bring someone with you?”

Before Kiyoomi could respond to his father, he felt a presence, a slight tug at his sleeve before a head of fluffy blonde hair popped into his peripheral vision.

“Omi, why’d ya just leave me?” Atsumu had a small pout tugging at his lips.

Kiyoomi arched a brow, gesturing with his eyes towards his father. Atsumu followed his gaze, before his lips parted, eyes growing wide before he hurriedly bowed. “I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt.”

“I’m guessing this is your guest?” Satoh asked, and Kiyoomi was relieved to hear only amusement in his father’s voice.

“Yes. This is Atsumu Miya. Atsumu, this is my father, Satoh, and Kita-san.” Atsumu offered out an awkward hand for them both to shake.

“Kita-san?” Atsumu squeaked, and Kita’s lips quirked up into a small smile.

“Well! What a small world, it's nice to see you again, Atsumu. How’ve you been?” Kita greeted Atsumu with a kiss to the forehead. Kiyoomi watched on curiously, noting the way that Atsumu’s shoulders seemed to relax, his expression lighting up as he began to talk.

“I've been good,” Atsumu smiled. “I'm considered the best setter in all of Japan right now, _ and  _ I’m the MVP of the collegiate league.” Kiyoomi watched as Atsumu puffed his chest out, obviously proud and Kita chuckled, ruffling Atsumu’s hair.

“I’ll have to tell Shin that I ran into you.” Atsumu’s eyes went wide, lips parting to say something.. “I won't tell him anything you don't want me to tell him.”

“Thanks,” Atsumu glanced back up at Satoh and Kiyoomi. “Sorry I interrupted again… I was just surprised.”

“Don't worry about it. Weren't you with Suna a few minutes ago?” Kiyoomi nudged Atsumu gently with his elbow.

“Yeah. Komori-san called him back over, and you weren't anywhere in sight.” A frown made its way across Atsumu’s features, and Kiyoomi paused, tilting his head to the side. A few cogs in Kiyoomi’s head began to turn. Perhaps… no, Kiyoomi would ask later.

“What are you studying, Miya-kun?” Satoh spoke up, cutting through the sudden awkward air.

“Oh! I’m in my final year of my physical therapy degree.” Atsumu looked nervous, fingers pulling at each other, teeth tugging his bottom lip into his mouth ever so slightly.

“That's impressive. You're an athlete above all that?” Atsumu nodded. “Splendid! Will you tell me a bit about your academics?” Kiyoomi bit back a sigh; either his father was trying to let Kita tell him of her situation for needing a lawyer, or he was trying to make sure Atsumu would be a good ‘fit’ for Kiyoomi – or quite possibly both. At Kiyoomi's nod, Atsumu followed Satoh off towards the section of the ballroom set up as a buffet.

“Kita-san,” Kiyoomi started, once they were left alone. “Are you alright with talking here, or is it a more private matter?”

“Here is fine,” Kita replied. “I want you to help me gain full custody of my child.”

“Can you give me more of the details?” Kiyoomi asked. Kita launched into a full story; she and her boyfriend of five years had an unexpected pregnancy. Her boyfriend had panicked and run out on her, leaving her to carry their baby alone. He’d returned about a month before her expected date, half a drunkard, a quarter of a drug dealer and a quarter insane, demanded that he share custody of his child. Kita had reluctantly agreed to let him back into her life, only to realize that it was a mistake.

He was loud, disruptive, wanted nothing but alcohol, threatened to drain Kita of all her money if she refused to comply, would occasionally force himself upon her despite her being pregnant, and once while drunk, threatened to kill her if she kept the baby.

Through her retelling of her relationship, Kita’s voice remained calm and level, but her eyes told a whole different story.

“That must have been horrible. You’re incredibly strong. How old is your child?” Kiyoomi hated telling someone  _ I’m sorry  _ after they told him about a difficult past. They didn’t want people to apologize for something that they couldn’t have stopped, or something about the past. Perhaps it depended on the situation, but in this case, Kiyoomi knew that  _ I’m sorry  _ was not what Kita-san wanted to hear.

“Thank you.” There was a soft smile om Kita’s face. “She’s two years old. She’s staying with my younger brother for a few days while I’m here in Tokyo.”

“So she’s safe?” Kiyoomi asked.

“Yes. Shin’s moved since the last time my ex visited him with me, so he shouldn’t know of Shin’s whereabouts. I’m worried about my daughter, he’s demanding partial custody of her, and he does have the right to, as he is biologically her father, but I don’t want her anywhere near him.” Kita frowned, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“Is he still living with you?” Kiyoomi asked, brow furrowing.

“Thankfully, he’s not. He still doesn’t seem to understand that we broke up over two and a half years ago, and our so-called relationship didn’t continue when he came back.” Kita’s lips turned up into a half scowl.

“Have you tried to get the police involved?” Kita paled at that.

“He threatened to kill my baby, force me to watch and then take my life.” Kita’s shoulders curled in, as if trying to hide herself. “He’s always found a way to weasel his way out of jail, so I don’t doubt that his words are true.”

_ This is going to get messy. _

“I’m afraid I can’t do much about that, unfortunately.” Kiyoomi frowned. “If you do have any evidence of this, please let me know and I can keep note of it when I draft up a court case. Is your ex-partner aware of this?” Kita nodded. “I’ll do the best I can.” Kiyoomi promised. 

“Thank you, Kiyoomi-kun.” Kita’s body sagged with relief. “I think I need a drink after that. Will you join me?” Kiyoomi found his eyes scanning the ballroom floor, spotting Atsumu sitting at a table talking with Satoh, and nodded, following Kita towards the bar.

* * *

“Omi-Omi!” Kiyoomi’s body went tense as he felt arms throw themselves around his shoulders, before a heated cheek pressed to the back of Kiyoomi’s jaw. Kiyoomi sighed softly, reaching up to gently pat Atsumu’s head, shifting to force the blonde’s arms off of him. “Oh, sorry. I forgot. No touchin’.” Kiyoomi glanced up to see Atsumu swaying slightly on his feet, cheeks flushed and his eyes slightly glazed over.

“What’d you drink?” Kiyoomi demanded, quickly standing from his seat to sit Atsumu down. The blonde giggled, hiccuping once before he stared up at Kiyoomi with wonder in his eyes.

“I got this real tasty drink. It was really sweet and tasted like peaches.” Atsumu grinned, and Kiyoomi immediately scanned the room for his father. “Yer dad just suggested it to me to loosen up. He didn't do anythin’, I promise.” Atsumu hiccuped again, before blinking at Kiyoomi, reaching out to tug on the front of his suit jacket. “Omi, why do ya look so… weird?”

“What do you mean?” Kiyoomi asked, frowning.

“I dunno, there’s three of ya.” Atsumu laughed. It was a nice sound, Kiyoomi thought. The Atsumu he’d been with before was tense and almost skittish, got easily anxious and flustered. This was different, but Kiyoomi wasn’t complaining.

“Drink some water.” Kiyoomi took a new cup from the table, flipping it right side up before reaching for the pitcher of cold water, ice clinking against the glass as Kiyoomi poured. “At least tell me you ate something before you drank.”

“Yeah! Yer dad got me some gyoza and yakitori while he asked me a few questions about college n’ stuff.” Atsumu nearly dropped the glass of water, and Kiyoomi huffed, taking the glass from Atsumu’s fingers. The blonde protested, but quickly shut up once Kiyoomi rested the rim of the glass to his lips, allowing Kiyoomi to tip his head back to let him drink.

“Omi, yer so pretty.” Atsumu said once Kiyoomi set the glass of water down. Atsumu leaned forward, and Kiyoomi let the top of his blonde head thump against his sternum.

“Thanks.” Kiyoomi replied. A few seconds later, Kiyoomi encouraged Atsumu to lift his head so Kiyoomi could sit down on the seat next to him. Kiyoomi spotted Motoya making his way across the room, a ruffled looking Suna in tow.

“Kiyo! You’re here longer than I expected.” Motoya greeted. Kiyoomi gestured towards Atsumu, who gave the new pair a grin, holding up a peace sign.

“He’s drunk, isn’t he?” Suna stated, and immediately, Atsumu pouted.

“I’m not drunk, I’m tipsy!” Atsumu protested, and Suna snorted, rolling his eyes.

“As if that makes a difference.”

“It does and ya know it, Sunarin!”

_ Sunarin?  _ Kiyoomi and Motoya exchanged looks.

“I guess. You get awfully more chatty and annoying when you’re tipsy, and when you’re drunk you just go silent and mope.” Suna scoffed, before he turned to Motoya. “Atsumu’s my childhood friend, along with his twin brother. I meant to tell you a bit ago, but I guess I didn’t think I was that important. Just… wanted to make sure you know that nothing ever happened between us.”

“And nothin’s gonna ever happen.” Atsumu grinned lazily, eyes half lidded as if he was about to fall asleep at the table. Kiyoomi wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Suna opened his mouth to retort, but Motoya’s hand on his waist had him quieting immediately.

“Suna and I are going to head out,” Motoya said, glancing down at the watch on his wrist. “We’ve been here for over three hours, and my feet are killing me.”

“We should probably head out too. Come on, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi got to his feet and Atsumu squinted up at him.

“What if I don’t wanna go?” Atsumu huffed.

“I’ll pay you double for attending this with me tonight.” Kiyoomi countered. Atsumu seemed to ponder it, before nodding.

“I am kinda short for my rent this month.” Kiyoomi didn’t mention that they’d already agreed he would pay for Atsumu’s rent. Motoya opened his mouth to say something, but quieted immediately when Kiyoomi shot him a warning look. “Okay! Let’s go, Omi-Omi!”

_ Omi?  _ Motoya mouthed, eyes glimmering with amusement. Kiyoomi flipped him off. Suna hid his snort in his shoulder.

“I’m dizzy.” Atsumu announced as he stood, his hand gripping the back of the chair for what Kiyoomi presumed to be balance. “Everything’s spinning.”

“You’d better not throw up in my car, or anywhere near me.” Kiyoomi warned.

“He doesn’t throw up,” Suna piped up quietly. “He’s never thrown up. He’ll probably start rambling, he mumbles a lot, he might cry depending on how much he’s drunk, and he does get quite… touchy if he’s had enough to drink, but I don’t think he’s at that point. But when he conks out, he sleeps like the dead.” Kiyoomi and Motoya looked back over towards Atsumu, who was staring at the three of them with practically closed eyes; a half confused half dopey look, a small smile on his face.

“Omi, can we go? I’m sleepy.” Atsumu asked.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Atsumu. Stay safe.” Suna said, before he and Motoya waved goodbye, slipping away through the crowd.

“Of course I’ll stay safe. I agreed to Omi’s terms.” Atsumu mumbled, and Kiyoomi lurched forward, just managing to catch the blonde before he brained himself on the edge of the table. “Woah, Omi.” Atsumu giggled, stumbling to stand upright. “Yer so strong.”

“Alright, drink the rest of this.” Kiyoomi sighed, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips beneath his mask, holding up the glass of water.

“I don’t wanna.” Atsumu pouted. “Omi, I don’t wanna.”

“Then you can walk your way back to the car yourself. Suna said that you don’t throw up, but if you happen to throw up this time, it better not be in my car.”

“I can do that! I promise I won’t get sick.” Atsumu saluted.

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“I won’t! Who do ya think I am, Omi?”

As soon as Atsumu’s head hit the headrest, he was out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come follow me on Twitter! My handle is writerinbrooks. There should be a hyperlink below.
> 
> I do polls on my Twitter about the upcoming chapters, and potentially scenes that I get stuck on. The answers **can** change the outcomes for the fic, so if you wanna participate (or just see chaos unfold) be sure to follow me! 
> 
> I'll try my best to post updates, as well.
> 
> Next time is Atsumu POV!

**Author's Note:**

> Come follow my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/writerinbrooks)
> 
> Comments and kudos would be greatly appreciated! <3
> 
> Thank you for reading! :D
> 
> I'm not certain when I'll finish chapter two, I'm in my last two weeks of my first semester of college, so my schedule's pretty busy. But I hope to get another chapter out before the end of this year!


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